


Coat Check

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Human Furniture, Human Robot Play, Humiliation, M/M, Objectification, condescension kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: “Wow,” Bucky laughs, patting his cheek condescendingly. “Did you think you were aperson?”In which Steve serves a function, but not much of one.(Humiliation. If you liked Hey, Dollie you'll probably like this one, though it's not quite dollification. AI-ification? Steve likes to feel used and simple, basically.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 179





	Coat Check

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story we can thank my short-lived plan to do Kinktober for. And also, well, my own fetishes. Ahem. And, tbh, marijuana.

When Steve enters the apartment, locking the door behind him, Bucky meets him halfway across the living room, steadies him by the arms, and then immediately removes his own coat. Steve just has time to register the way Bucky is dressed—in full winter outdoor gear, like he’d just returned to their living space himself—before he’s removing said coat and tugging Steve’s arm into it. Steve, having come from Tony’s workshop, is dressed only in jeans and a t-shirt, rather than for the winter weather, and he just smiles, bemused.

“Whatcha dressin’ me up for, Buck?” he asks as Bucky pulls his other arm into the peacoat and starts to do up the buttons. He quirks his head a little up at Steve, looking confused as he buttons from thigh level to mid-chest, and then plops his hat on Steve’s head, slightly lopsided. 

“Wow,” Bucky laughs, patting his cheek condescendingly. “Did you think you were a  _ person _ ?” 

Steve’s dick goes hard. It doesn’t matter that he’s confused, part of him is immediately ready to  _ play _ .

“God,” Bucky continues, as if he’s muttering to himself. “Of course Stark would give the  _ coat stand _ an AI, that is…  _ so  _ weird.” Bucky rolls his eyes and unwinds his scarf deliberately slowly, while unzipping Steve’s fly with the other hand. Steve’s entire face fills with blood, and so does his dick.

“Sorry, Sir,” he whispers.

“That’s all right, pal.” Bucky tugs Steve’s dick out of his underwear, letting it sit in the V of his fly, and then reaches up to pat at his cheek again, hard enough to sting this time. “Not your fault you’re so… limited in purpose.” His tone is so matter of fact. Steve’s fully hard, his gaze locked straight ahead, before Bucky’s done unwinding. And that’s when Bucky  _ hangs his scarf on Steve’s dick _ .

“It’s kind of sad, really,” Bucky muses as he bunches the scarf so it’s secure, then reaches up to pull his ponytail loose. Steve’s shocked when Bucky uses his fingers to pull Steve’s tongue from his mouth, then rolls the ponytail holder up to the base of it and pushes it back inside. Steve’s mouth almost immediately pools with saliva.

After stepping back a bit, Bucky reaches for the first of the buckles on his tactical jacket. They don’t even have to come off, to remove the thing. Bucky knows that he knows that. Steve forces himself not to lick his lips. “Stark made you a functioning brain, but you ain’t got nothing to use it for. I mean, you’re still just a rod for people to hang shit on. Single function. Pretty sad.” Each strap comes free of its metal buckle, one by one. Bucky stares him down, going silent. Then he’s inches away. Steve locks his muscles. 

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters, suddenly breaking eye contact and lifting the edge of the scarf. A thin trail of come clings to the cashmere, stretching between the knit and Steve’s cockhead. He hadn’t even realized he was leaking. Christ, could Bucky  _ smell _ it? “Gives you a damned intelligence, but can’t bother to send you down clean,” Bucky bristles, and then he’s reaching for a  _ dry _ sponge, and Steve’s entire body clenches as Bucky scrubs it over the head of Steve’s cock. His eyes slam shut, and his balls throb with confused want. 

“Oh gross, did Stark  _ christen  _ you?” Bucky groans, squinting at the sponge. Steve’s body gives a minute spasm at the forbidden image. Stark’s straight, he would never… but still… 

“That man and his fucking machines,” Bucky scowls, tossing the sponge into a small decorative garbage bin. He smirks, then, a delayed reaction to his own pun. But Steve doesn’t care, because finally, finally, Bucky’s unzipping the heavy leather jacket and tossing it over his shoulders, careless. He only adjusts when it starts to slip off at the haphazard angle over the peacoat, with only one arm to catch on Steve’s shoulder. But Bucky doesn’t just right the thing—he tosses it over Steve’s head, and then walks out of the room. Steve nearly comes on the spot. 

But no. He’s a good boy. He stands at attention, only letting tiny whimpers loose when he absolutely cannot hold them in. He hopes they’re muffled enough by the jacket that Bucky can’t hear. He knows that makes no sense, when  _ Steve _ can hear typing from their spare bedroom.  _ Fuck _ . 

It feels like an age, but eventually Bucky returns, and Steve cuts off a whimper of disappointment when he lifts the heavy jacket, freeing Steve from his warm weighted leather cocoon. He feels like nothing, though.  _ Less _ than nothing. He doesn’t make a sound, and Bucky strips him efficiently of the extra layer of clothing, putting piece by piece back on his own body. 

“Ah, poor little bot,” Bucky sighs, put-upon, as he fetches his hat, not bothering to tie up his hair this time. “You’re going to have to go back to being useless now. Such a waste.” He wraps the scarf once around his throat and then slaps Steves’s red and pulsing cock, hard, backhand. A pain shoots through his body, like lightning, but it’s also not pain, or not  _ just _ pain, and Bucky’s at his ear, whispering “come, tool” as he slaps Steve again, this time with his palm. 

Steve obeys. Steve only really knows how to obey.

When he’s done he’s hunched over, shaky, teetering gently to one side. He can’t focus, can’t right himself. He waits for Bucky to catch him, just before he falls, but it doesn’t happen. Gravity rushes up and he’s sprawled suddenly at Bucky’s feet.

“Aw, not even an actual coat rack, are you?” Bucky huffs, prods Steve’s stomach a little with the toe of his boot. “Just a shoe rack, is that what you are?” Steve’s body hunches around the pressure of its own accord. He feels the ponytail holder rubbing against his tonsils. “Guess I’d better go get some shoes…”

~*~

Hours later, Steve’s still fuzzy and floaty, sitting on a cushion at Bucky’s feet under the kitchen table. “How did you even come up with all that?” he sort of asks, sort of moans, still staring at the red boot and shoe marks from where Bucky had lined all his footwear up on Steve’s back and then manually pressed them into place hard enough to make Steve cry. “You’re a mad genius.”

Bucky laughs and ruffles his hair. “I dunno, pal. I was reading about something called the Internet of Things. And I was thinking, Stevie,” he murmurs, voice dropping in both pitch and volume as he squeezes his inner thighs harder against Steve’s shoulders and leans in to let his lips brush Steve’s ear. “ _ You’re _ a thing.”

Steve moans, loud and hoarse, and suddenly there is no ground, he’s right back down in it, falling and falling. Bucky doesn’t catch him. No, Bucky knows what’s best for Steve, and a slap to his face confirms it. 

“Put your tongue out,” Bucky barks. Steve’s jaw drops and the muscle extends until he feels pain where it attaches. Bucky places a small gingerbread cookie right in the center. “Keep it out, pal. I don’t want my snack getting all soggy, that’s nasty.” Bucky makes a face, and Steve feels the moisture evaporate from his tongue even as Bucky says it. All he wants is to swallow, to let drool pool up a bit.

He keeps his tongue where it is, though. Bucky’s had to deal with enough of his nastiness tonight. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Bucky moans, pulling his cock out and jerking himself. Bucky doesn’t come every time they play. Steve knows this. It’s not impolite to assume. “You little slut. Didn’t even let me get off, you were so eager to get yours,” he snarls, and Steve feels humiliation deep and sweet in his gut, where no one else can reach.  _ Yeah _ , he thinks.  _ You idiot. Cock puppet. Eager slave. _

“Trade ya,” Bucky gasps after a minute of those insults ringing delicious in Steve’s mind. He swipes the cookie off Steve’s dry tongue with his metal hand, and takes a bite even as he starts to replace it with his come. Steve moans, the parched tastebuds suddenly coated with thick fluid. A bit gets on his nose. He might inhale Bucky’s come, die, and not actually care. Bucky taps the bottom of his chin with two firm fingers. “Good boy. Swallow.” 

It might be the best dessert Steve’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> ps - Stark is _not_ straight, Steve, that's ridiculous. I refuse to believe it.


End file.
